


The Leaven Experiment

by Ash_Lock_243 (PaulineHolmes02), PaulineHolmes02



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Caring John, Crying Sherlock Holmes, Embarrassed Sherlock Holmes, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Sherlock Holmes, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, John Watson Takes Care of Sherlock Holmes, Love Confessions, M/M, Magical Realism, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Please Don't Hate Me, Scared Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes Has Low Self-Esteem, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Sherlock Holmes Needs a Hug, Sherlock Holmes and Experiments, Sherlock is a Mess, Vulnerable Sherlock, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23534209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaulineHolmes02/pseuds/Ash_Lock_243, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaulineHolmes02/pseuds/PaulineHolmes02
Summary: Sherlock's experiment doesn't turn out well. What could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 15
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

John came out of the bathroom, rubbing his hair dry with a towel to find his best friend laying on the couch.

The bony detective in his favourite purple button-upsshirt laid stretched on the sofa, his long legs hung out of the armrest, and his delicate hands with long fingers rested under his chin, he was deep inside his Mind Palace, John guessed.

But he asked anyway, you never know about Sherlock Holmes... " I have bought some takeaway on my way back from work... Wanna have some?"

Sherlock raised up his head to look at his flatmate. " No, thanks... I've already eaten..." He said and let his hands drop alongside his body. So not the Mind Palace then...

" Fine, your waste..." John shrugged his shoulders and turned around to go to the kitchen to fetch himself some dinner. When he was preparing his meal, he couldn't help but notice that the kitchen is strangely clean. 

The dining table which has always been messy and almost bent under Sherlock's unused things was now completely empty and tidy and when John opened the fridge, he could find just FOOD, no signs of body parts or any other disgusting things Sherlock liked to store in there. 

He shook his head, it must have been Mrs Hudson, Sherlock would never touch the broomstick or any other cleaning stuff. 

A few minutes later he re-entered the living room with a portion of noodles and sat down in his favourite armchair. 

The detective let out an oblivious sigh and he ruffled his black curly hair. A sudden wave of heat hit him like a Tsunami and he could feel tiny drops of sweat rash on his forehead. But he just waved it off, he attached this warmness to Mrs Hudson's heating. 

" How was your work today?" He asked the short man opposite to him in real interest, which was quite unusual for him. From John's side... 

John sighed and stretched his legs and crossed his ankles. Nothing special - flu, cough, allergies and some ear infection, this was John's bread and butter...

" As always, exhausting... Since when do you care about my work?" 

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. " I'm just... chatting... Isn't that what people do?" He asked in confusion, did he do it wrong? 

The ex-soldier smiled at him, he knew that the detective was doing his best to be a 'normal' flatmate, but the truth was that John wanted him to be just _Sherlock_... " You know you can act like yourself, don't you? I'm pretty used to it by now..."

" Thanks, I was starting to fear that you won't say that..." Sherlock noted in his characteristic voice and rolled his eyes. 

John chuckled. " And how was your day? Were there some severed heads in the fridge again? Or explosions?" He asked a rhetorical question, hoping that Sherlock won't reply. 

The detective DIDN'T reply but remained oddly quiet and he lowered his eyes, at that moment he reminded John of guilty puppy which knew it had done something bad. 

" Sherlock...?" John said in his familiar 'what-have-you-done-this-time' tone and frowned at him. One calm, peaceful evening! Was it too much to wish? 

The raven-haired man wrapped his arms around himself in a defensive manner and his lips turned into a pout. " It was an accident... Don't worry, I cleaned it perfectly!" So that's why the kitchen was so clean and tidy! 

A flick of fear stormed through John's eyes and he immediately started to check on Sherlock's lean body. He seemed to be unharmed, thank goodness! " Are you alright? You're not hurt, are you?"

" I'm fine, John..." The detective snapped at him, much more harshly than he intended to. John was just concerned about him and he meant it well, but the man wasn't used to those displays of affection. 

As soon as he said that, an unstoppable gasp found its way out of his chest. 

A strange warmth gathered around his stomach and settled down there. The heat started to produce a weird tingling sensation inside Sherlock's guts as if tiny legs of the beetles were marching on the wall of his stomach. 

Sherlock put his hands on his flat belly to find it... not so flat as he expected it to be. 

The skin felt hot under his touch and there was a little bulge on his lower abdomen. 

Detective's eyes widened. That... That wasn't there before! He had to know that, he was Sherlock Holmes! And he was more than sure that the curve of his belly DEFINITELY wasn't as round as right now, he has always been thin as a stick! 

The tingling feeling inside his body became stronger and even more uncomfortable. 

And suddenly... 

No, it wasn't possible, was it? It couldn't be! He was just imagining things, this wasn't real! 

He pressed his hands on his belly with a bigger strength and tried to push the bulge down, horrified to realise that his stomach kept responding with the same force. The pressure inside his guts was hard to deny, especially when it started to push outwards against his hands and sent shivers through his spine. 

" Sherlock? What's wrong?"

John's voice immediately returned the shocked man back to reality, he completely forgot that he wasn't there alone. 

Panic started to rise inside him. Whatever was going on, John must not see! What would he think if he saw? 

Sherlock couldn't stay here and he knew it. He jumped out of the sofa and wrapped his arms around himself tightly to shield it from John's view. 

He stormed through the living room and made his way to the bathroom as quickly as he could. He ran inside and slammed the door behind himself, locking the door so John couldn't get in. 

* * *

John was left there in his armchair, with his face curled into a worried mask. What the hell was wrong with his flatmate? Was he sick? He said that he had already eaten, maybe he ate something which didn't get well with his stomach? 

He got up and headed towards the bathroom. He raised his hand a knocked lightly on the wooden door. 

" Sherlock? Are you okay?" 

Sherlock flinched at the sound of John's voice, the care and concern in his tone made the whole situation even worse! 

His gaze slid down to his middle and he couldn't hold a gasp. A bump was already forming on his favourite tight shirt, pushing it outwards and making it even tighter. Sherlock pressed his big hands on his stomach again in a hope it would return to its usual state, but it was no use, the skin under his fingers kept distending and he couldn't do anything about it. 

His breath started to creep up in his throat and a great lump of panic grew on his windpipe. 

This was just a bad dream, it had to be! This was biologically impossible, unreal! 

He grunted as he felt his tailored trousers grow tighter and tighter around his waist, the mass that kept expanding around his middle began to stretch the black fabric to make more room for itself. 

" I-I'm fine! Don't worry!" He shouted and couldn't suppress a groan of pain when the stupid waistband started to dig into the sensitive flesh and left there a red line of a pressure sore. 

John leaned closer to the door, he couldn't mishear the moan which was almost tangible in Sherlock's deep baritone. " Can I come in?" He asked, his voice full of worry. 

There was a noise when Sherlock leaned heavily on the door, preventing the room from John's entrance. " No! Go away!" He yelped, panicking. John wanted him to let him in! There was no way he could let the man he loved the most in the world see him like this! 

" Why not? I'm worried about you, you're acting so strange!" The former soldier exclaimed, the concern playing with his tone. 

He sighed and ran his hand through his sandy blonde hair in frustration. " What's going on, Lock? Don't you trust me?" 

The nickname and love in that question were all it took him to break. Sherlock knew that he could not hide this from his best friend, how could he? His stomach now looked like as if there was a bowl pressed against his skin and it still continued to grow! There was no way to cover it up! He let out a shaky sigh. " It's not that... I just don't want you to... see me like this..." 

At the end of the sentence, John had to strain his ears to hear what the man on the other side of the door said. 

Was that what Sherlock was scared of? He was a doctor, he could examine people in no time and he could say that it had almost no effect on him. However, this was Sherlock, a bit different case... 

" Sherlock, I won't see anything I hadn't seen. If you're throwing up or bleeding, I'm absolutely immune to these things... It's easier to bear with it when you have somebody with you..."

Sherlock's heart started to pound quickly in his chest, John thought he was having food poisoning or something like that! He almost saw the disgust on his face when he finds out that it's not the flu or food poisoning. 

The detective considered his options, however, he couldn't find any, as it seemed, he will have to let his friend in. 

" You're really scaring me! If you won't open the door, I'll knock it out!"

Sherlock took a towel from the hanger and wrapped it around his waist. He knew that it was just small protection, he was certain that he will outgrow it, by the rate his belly kept surging out. He hoped it will stop soon though, he didn't want to end up with a paunch huge as a beach ball or, for God's sake, even bigger! 

" I-I'm coming..."

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door. 

* * *

John immediately rushed towards his friend and looked him from head to toes. He seemed fine to him, he was maybe a bit red in his face... " Sherlock! Are you okay? What's wrong?" His small palm pressed to his forehead to check his temperature. The detective's forehead sweated excessively, but no signs of the fever... 

" I'm just a bit nauseous... Don't worry, I'll be fine..." Sherlock said, but his voice didn't sound very convincing, as if he himself didn't believe it... 

John's eyes continued in the examination and fixed on Sherlock's middle. His eyebrows furrowed at the sight of the towel around his waist, the way he clutched the towel alarmed him. It looked as if his whole life was depending on that piece of fabric. 

Was Sherlock trying to hide something? Jesus, what if he was bleeding?! 

" Please, let me help you... What hurts, is it your stomach? Let me see..." Then without a warning, the doctor took the towel and unwrapped it from Sherlock's waist. 

The detective tried to cover himself with his hands, but it was too late. 

" **SHERLOCK?!** "

John's eyes grew wide as he stared at detective's once-flat stomach, which somehow wasn't flat at all. John had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn't dreaming. 

He really wasn't, Sherlock looked like as if he was four months pregnant, his belly was round and bloated.

It didn't make any sense, how could this appear in there in just a few minutes?! 

Sherlock's cheeks flushed dark red from embarrassment and he bowed down his head in shame. He made a just feeble attempt to hide the abomination on his stomach with his hands, he knew that there was no use. 

Fortunately, it seemed that it stopped growing. His breath started to freak out, the panic almost choked him. What was he going to do? He had no idea what was going on and he HATED not-knowing! 

John immediately sensed the detective's discomfort and his face changed into his caring mask. " I'm so sorry, Lock... I didn't mean to. Calm down, please, I don't want you to faint..." He whispered and reached out for Sherlock's hands so he could take them out of his belly. 

" Do you know what has caused it? I mean, it couldn't just happen on its own, could it? Tell me what you did today..."

The black-haired man started to count on his fingers. " I worked on some paperwork... Wrote some articles... Did an experi-" His eyes widened in horror at the discovery. " Christ! It must have been that experiment! It went wrong and I got splashed with the mixture I made!"

" Do you remember what you've put in there?" John asked, finding the whole situation absurd and implausible. It couldn't be possible to inflate just because of some stupid chemicals, could it?

The way Sherlock's eyes widened told him that the detective remembered. He hid his face with his hand and rubbed his forehead in frustration. " The leaven..." He whispered in an empty voice before he flared up. 

" Oh, God! It's my own fault, I did that stupid experiment! I wasn't careful enough and now I'm rising like a dough for buns!" Sherlock's voice raised with hysteria and two small tears escaped his eyes and ran down his cheeks. 

John was a bit shocked to find the stoic, almost emotionless man crying. But not because for a case, just to manipulate someone to do something for him. The man in front of him was scared and confused, with no idea what to do. 

The doctor rested his hand on Sherlock's bony shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. " Don't worry, we will find a cure, okay?"

He tilted his head to see it from different angles, but it seemed to him that it was just a little pooch that could be hidden quite well. " Furthermore, it isn't that bad..."

As soon as John said that, the detective groaned and clutched his tum, curling into a ball to decrease the pain. 

John didn't understand, what was going on? Then he took a better look at his friend's belly and - 

" Jesus!" The ex-soldier couldn't help but yelp and stare in shock as Sherlock's tummy began to swell right in front of his very eyes, getting bigger with every second. It reminded him of some kind of horror movie, this could not be real! 

The hopelessness changed into a panic and panic into anger. Sherlock pressed his hands on his middle, determined to push everything back, but the power in his belly was stronger. When nothing happened, he let out something between the snarl and yelp and punched himself into the growing flesh. 

" Sherlock, stop it, you're hurting yourself!" John exclaimed, horrified to see that his friend loathes himself so much. 

To prevent him from hurting himself, he wrapped his strong arms around Sherlock's shoulders and squeezed him into a loving embrace. Sherlock began to tremble like a leaf in the wind and curled into a fetal position, nestling up to his friend and his welcoming hug. 

" Hey, it will be okay, you'll see... You're fine, really..." John cooed and pressed his best friend even closer to himself, so close he could feel detective's engorging tummy poke him in his side. He didn't mind though, everything he cared about was the man beside him and he wasn't going to let some stupid experiment to take the detective away from him! He just hoped Sherlock won't notice his pounding, throbbing heart. He would not say it out loud, but it felt so nice to hold him like this, it was so unknown yet so familiar... If only it wasn't such a horrible occasion! 

Sherlock sniffed. His cheeks were red as roses, he was so embarrassed and scared! And the worst of all was that it was HIS fault! " How come you're not disgusted?" He asked, genuinely surprised.

John looked at him, a bit hurt, was this what Sherlock thought of him? " Disgusted? I could never be disgusted by you. To be honest, I'm a bit shocked, but that's all..." He said and meant every word. 

Holmes could not hold back a groan when his ballooning tummy pressed against his chest and stretched the shirt almost to the maximum, the pale skin bubbled under his top and gaped out of the gaps of its fastening. His trousers also seemed to be losing their fight, the piece of clothing seemed to hold in one piece just in a pure miracle. The waistband tightened around his waist more and more and imprisoned him in its tight jail. 

The poor man rested his head on John's shoulder and took a deep breath, while discreetly smelling John's familiar scent. " I'm scared, John..." He peeped in a small voice. It was a very unusual sight, the detective almost never showed any emotions... 

The doctor's hand ran into Sherlock's wild black hair and he caressed it in an attempt to make the man beside him relax. " I know you are, I am too... But we'll make it, we always do." 

" What do we do?" Sherlock asked and looked at him with big trusting eyes, for the first time in his life he was utterly lost. 

John shrugged his shoulders. 

" I don't know... But maybe it will stop on its own... You just have to calm down, panic makes everything worse... " He said. God knows how much he would like to help him, but he had no idea how. 

Sherlock nodded and took a deep breath through his nose in order to pull himself together, but it proved to be a big mistake. He should have taken off his shirt while he still could, he could have spared his favourite piece of clothes. But it was too late now. 

The rest of the colour drained out of detective's face and he closed his eyes in shame when he heard the seams of the abused shirt groan as they tried to make some more space. He reached his fingers to undo the buttons, he knew that the disaster was upon them -

**RIP!**

The popping noise announced that his shirt officially gave up on the fight and burst, 

giving the detective's growing belly free place to expand in. It gratefully spilt out of the tight squeeze and continued happily in its augmentation. 

The torn shirt bared the whole area of the detective's stomach, showing it at its best. The pale skin looked painfully tight and stretch marks started to sprout on sides of his burgeoning belly. 

That was the last straw for the poor detective and he burst into tears, unable to keep himself in control anymore. His body betrayed him completely, and right in front of John, the most important man in his life! How can he look him in the eye after this?! 

" D-don't look at me, please... " Sherlock stuttered between sobs which shook with his changing body and tried to pull away from his friend. 

However, the arm around his shoulders tightened its grip and pressed the weeping detective to the owner's chest. " Shhh... It's just me..." 

Slowly, in order to give his friend an opportunity to withdraw, the short doctor reached out his hand and laid it gently on the moving mass of Sherlock's middle. His finger pads brushed against the hot skin which almost vibrated under his touch. 

Then he spread his fingers and pressed his palm on the expanding gut and stroked it with such a softness and care it made detective's breath hitch. 

" You don't have to -" Sherlock said and looked down sadly at John's hand which looked ridiculously small compared to the bulge of Sherlock's middle. 

The doctor started to rub light circles on detective's bare skin. 

" I know... Calm down, Lock...Stop thinking about it, you're only torturing yourself..."

He knew that people would definitely talk if they had seen them like that. But he did not mind, Sherlock needed his help and support, and he would do anything to get him out of this misery. 

" Tell me about the previous case..." John said suddenly to change the topic completely.

Sherlock's bushy brows furrowed in confusion. " But we were there together-" He noted, surprised. Why did John want him to talk about the "Furious Violinist" case? 

" It doesn't matter, tell me about it, who was a victim?"

The Consulting detective inhaled shakily and started. " The body belonged to a young woman, somewhere around 23 years old. She died from strangling, she was choked by a string, which was quite obvious because of the thin line of the cut on her neck..." He stopped for a while, to catch his breath.

" Well done, continue..." John praised him and boosted him to continue. 

Sherlock inhaled deeply and grimaced as he felt his more-than-skin-tight pants dig into his sensitive gut. However, he felt a warmth (a positive one this time) in his chest, because even though he looked like a human balloon, John still spoke highly of him. 

" She was a student, not a very good one according to her friends. She was very arrogant, that's evident from her eyebrows."

" Evident..." John smirked sarcastically, doing everything he could to make the man distracted, even if he had to make a fool of himself. 

" Obvious, there are tiny wrinkles around her brows, she had a habit of raising them on people she loathed. From the body language, it's clear that she was arrogant..." The detective explained and felt a bit better, except for the uncomfortable pressure of his pants which made him feel like a sardine. 

John didn't even hesitate and bowed down and grabbed the button of Sherlock's trousers to set him free from its prison. Finally, the button loosened and the belly could puff out. Sherlock let out a sigh of relief and massaged sore spots before he turned his attention back to his kind flatmate. 

" Thank you, John... You can go to sleep, you don't have to be with me..." The detective spoke softly, very grateful to his friend and blogger. He knew John wanted to help, but he didn't want him to be tired because of him and his stupid experiments! 

John shook his head, patted Sherlock's tummy softly and gave him a boosting smile. " You don't have to thank me, it's a matter of course... I just think that you could appreciate some new clothes. I'm sure Tesco is still open, it's still not that late..."

There was a sudden 'ping' coming out of his phone, alerting an incoming message. John didn't have to take a look to know who it was... 

**FROM** : Mycroft 

**TO** : John

**That won't be necessary. Stay with him. M**

" He knows, doesn't he?" Sherlock asked, his voice strangely unsure. 

The soldier nodded and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's thickening middle while the raven-haired man clenched the fabric of John's cuddly jumper and held onto it as if his whole life was depending on it. 

" Yes, he does... But don't worry, I'm not leaving you alone..." He whispered and hoped to get out of this mess soon. 


	2. Chapter 2

" My, my, Sherlock... What have you done this time?" A sarcastic voice said from the doorframe of the bathroom, which belonged to nobody else but Mycroft Holmes. His eyes combed the situation in front of him and he had a lot to do to stay stoic and calm.   
He would be lying if he had said that he wasn't horrified though. 

His little brother seemed to be unharmed and in one piece, fortunately. Except he wasn't little anymore.

He was sitting on the cold tiles, in the arms of his best friend. His shirt was torn out in the middle and reminded him more of the bra than a formal elegant piece of clothing, his pants were unbuttoned, but it didn't seem to be enough to ease his discomfort. His belly was inflating in front of him like a balloon, he looked like an expecting mother at the due date. 

" Did you come here just to make fun of me, Mycroft?" Said Sherlock, his voice cracked on the elder man's name. There were wet traces on his cheeks, it was evident that his baby brother had cried. 

" Does it look like that?" The redhead man raised his eyebrow and tutted. Deep inside he was shocked, it was so strange to see his bony brother fill out into such size... 

Sherlock wrapped his arms around himself and pouted at him. " Yes..." He snapped. 

The British Government turned his attention to John Watson. " John, would you be so kind and give us a minute?" He really needed to have a word with Sherlock and calm him down, it was maybe the only thing which could stop the growth of the afflicted body part. 

John turned to look Sherlock in the face, asking him nonverbally if he wants him to go. The detective nodded slightly. " Sure..." John rose up from the ground and left the bathroom, closing the door behind himself.

* * *

" I came to help you..." Mycroft said as soon as they were alone in the room, his tone changing completely. Suddenly it sounded caring and soft, the arrogance was almost gone. 

Sherlock raised his head and looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. " Why would you do that? Why don't you laugh at me and my stupidity?" He snapped but his voice was missing its harshness so characteristic for conversations with his brother. 

The other Holmes made his way towards his sibling and bent down on the floor, putting his hand on Sherlock's knee. " Because I care about you..." 

Suddenly Sherlock completely dropped the 'hard man' mask and bared how vulnerable he felt.   
" Oh, Mycroft! Please, do something, I beg you! You always know everything, there must be something we can do! If this continues, I won't pass through the door soon!" Sherlock yelped, the hysterical tone of his voice made his baritone much louder and Mycroft didn't doubt that John must have heard every word he said. 

He groaned in discomfort and pressed his hands furiously on his constantly tumefying throbbing gut, hoping that if he'll press it with such big strength, it will shrink back to its usual size. But it didn't work, it only increased the detective's bad mood and desperation. 

The elder one watched the man in front with sad eyes, seeing his poor sibling fight with the unyielding power which made his body change was hard to look at. " I'm afraid that I don't know what to do... I'm sorry, brother mine..." He said in the softest voice Sherlock has ever heard him use and moved his hands on Sherlock's shoulders which started to tremble slightly. 

The detective's hopes were dashed, if Mycroft did not know, what was the chance of getting back to normal, or stopping it at least?   
The detective buried his head in his hands and lost the control of his emotions, the fear paralyzed his brilliant brain and prevented his head from finding out how to deal with the consequences of his carelessness. 

" No, Sherlock, stop crying! It gets worse when you're upset, think of something nice... Or someone..."

The detective obeyed and leaned his troubled head on the wall of the bathroom and closed his eyes, thinking about the only thing which was able to calm him down. John...   
He still felt his cooling, small hands on his expanding body, and the gentle voice of his companion rang in his ears, murmuring that everything will be okay, it was as if he was there with him. His breath was starting to calm down and so the man on the floor. 

" Well done, Sherlock..." Mycroft praised him like a small child and patted his shoulder. 

A snivel echoed through the bathroom when Sherlock wiped his nose.   
Mycroft took out a snowy white handkerchief from the breast pocket of his jacket and handed it to his brother. 

" Thank you..." Sherlock gratefully took the offered napkin and blew his nose. Then he let out a deep breath and put the hanky on the floor. " I tried to hide it from him, but it was no use..." He nodded towards the door, speaking about John. 

" I see...". Mycroft couldn't help but make a pointed remark, he didn't like to hear someone stating the painfully obvious. 

However, it wasn't a good idea to taunt his brother in this state, he didn't even want to imagine himself in his shoes. " But John takes it quite well, doesn't he? How did he react?"

Sherlock ruffled his hair in frustration and rested his hands on the top of his surging abdomen, rubbing it cautiously to ease the ache of his stretching skin.   
" At first he was worried, I didn't want to let him in - which is understandable, he's a doctor. When he found out, he was shocked, ' _surprisingly_ '. But then he tried to help me and calmed me down..." He paused and ruffled his black sweaty hair. " But what if he did it just from the pity? What if I'll be stuck like this forever (unless I burst) and John will move out?" A traitorous sniff found its way from Sherlock's mouth at the horrible image in his Mind Palace. 

Mycroft cupped his brother's face with his big hands and looked him deeply into his puffy red eyes. " John is not like that, he would never replace you... He had known you just a few hours and still, he refused to take a tidy sum of money... That says a lot about him, doesn't it?" 

Then he rolled his eyeballs and sneered, he wasn't used to those outbursts of brotherly compassion... " Jesus, you're making me so sentimental that my teeth rot..." He said, joking to lighten up the atmosphere a bit. 

A small smile warped Sherlock's pink lips as corners of his mouth raised upwards. 

* * *

John winced when the desperate voice of his friend reached to his ears, the desperation in Sherlock's voice was almost tangible. He wasn't eavesdropping, God, his strong moral principles did not allow him to intrude Sherlock's and Mycroft's privacy. But Sherlock's exclamation couldn't be unheard, he could tell that the detective was hopeless. 

He hated the way Sherlock thought about himself, he could hear shock, panic and humiliation in his voice. It wasn't that bad, for now... However, he had to admit that the detective had a point, something **HAD TO BE DONE** before his bulging tummy makes him immobile! 

He continued to pace restlessly through the living room, pretty shaken by the whole situation. It was so unreal and crazy, he had a hard time to understand that some kind of ruined experiment could cause so much damage! 

It was horrible to see his best friend so helpless, out of control. Sherlock always wanted to have an upper hand on everything, but there was no way to control this. He told him that it will be okay... But he couldn't know it, he only said that to make him feel better. His words couldn't stop the disaster caused by a completely absurd thing. 

He had his poor Sherlock still in front of his eyes, sobbing uncontrollably, shedding tears of shame and fear. It was obvious that the detective was scared, he could do nothing else but just watch his belly stubbornly force its way forward, surging out like a rising dough... 

Hold on... 

Dough... 

An idea started to form in his head and the more he thought about it, the more promising it seemed to be. 

Rushing towards the bathroom as quickly as he could, he knocked on the door with urgency.   
" I'm sorry for interrupting, don't worry, I haven't been eavesdropping. I have an idea. Sherlock said that there was a leaven inside the mixture which splattered him, is that right?" 

" Yep, together with baking powder..." Came an unsure reply from the bathroom. 

The doctor leaned on the door. " I'm not a good cook or baker, but I know that the rising of the yeast-based dough can be influenced by the temperature! It rises more with heat, but it stops its proofing when you cool it down. Try to take a very cold shower, maybe it could stop or even shrink back to its usual size..." He said, explaining the principle of dough rising. Because that was how Sherlock's tummy behaved like, it had to be from the leaven the detective had tested, he couldn't find any other possible trigger for it. 

Sherlock's face lit up with new hope and his heart started to pound fast. " It could work! How come I haven't thought of it? You're the best, John!" He let out a shout of joy, thanking his friend for his culinary knowledge. 

John prayed for it to work, he has just raised Sherlock's hopes of getting back to normal, what if it doesn't work at all? Sherlock will be devastated if it malfunctions. But it was a better option than doing nothing.   
" Good luck, boys... I'll be in the living room..."

* * *

  
The detective propped on his hand and tried to bent around his mounting tummy, but it didn't let him. It was getting in his way as if it heard John's advice and tried to baffle Sherlock's intentions.   
The poor man bit his lip when his incredibly tight pants kicked him into the growing flesh, but he couldn't suppress a small whine caused by the unpleasant sensation. 

Mycroft noticed Sherlock's failed attempt and reached out his hands to him. " Take my hands..."

Sherlock gratefully grabbed his brother's hands and allowed him to help him up on his feet.   
The round man lurched on his feet, feeling unstable and clumsy. His hands wandered towards the fly of his trousers and tried to grip the overly snug waistband. After a small fight with his own pair of trousers, he managed to strip it down his hips. 

Mycroft helped him out of the ripped shirt and threw it on the ground, right beside the black trousers.   
Finally, Sherlock was set up free of the restrictive clothes and stood there just in his boxers, shaking with humiliation and discomfort. 

" Ready?" The elder one asked and nodded towards the shower. 

The raven-haired detective chuckled unhappily. " There's nothing else I can do..."

" Let's get you in the shower then..." Mycroft ordered and helped his 'little' brother into the enclosure. Then he took the showerhead and turned on the coolest temperature he could. He switched on the water and the stream of freezing liquid started to pour out. 

Usually, this would be quite uncomfortable for both sides, but Mycroft was quite in a practice, it was becoming a routine. This wasn't the first time he helped his brother to have a shower. But usually, his brother didn't even know it because he was high as a kite. 

Sherlock let out a startled yelp when the cold water met his skin and began to shake as Mycroft kept washing his whole body with frigid douche. But he knew that if he wanted to stop this mess, he had to stand the coldness and stop whining. 

He had always hated cold showers and hardening, being skinny like a stick disconcerted his thermoregulation. He was also known for blocking the bathroom all the time, he could just stand in the shower and pour hectolitres of hot water on himself for ages. 

" H-how long?" Sherlock asked through his chattering teeth. He didn't want to look inpatient or ungrateful, but he wanted to leave the freezing shower as soon as possible. 

Mycroft sneered at him, his sibling has always been like that. " Patience, little brother..." 

The detective flinched, this time not from the coldness of the water. " Do-don't t-tease me!" 

" Now you know how I feel when you ask me about my diets..." The elder Holmes shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and patted Sherlock's belly. 

Sherlock's cheeks grew red, even despite the coolness.  
But then he realised something. Was this how Mycroft really felt, when he kept reminding him of his diets and weight? He always meant it like a joke, he knew that his big brother wasn't fat, he had eyes, for God's sake! But what if Mycroft took it personally?   
" I-I'm s-sorry, My... I've d-deserved this, ha-haven't I? F-for the w-way I had treated y-you..." He said, almost weeping. 

Mycroft blinked in confusion, did that silly man really think that he would deserve something like this just for an innocent teasing? He ran his hand through Sherlock's curly hair. " I was joking, Lock... It's not a punishment, it was an accident and you know it, it's not your fault..." 

" W-w-what if i-it doesn't wo-work?" Sherlock stuttered in a small, unsure voice and continued to shake all over his body, goosebumps covered every millimetre of his skin. What would he do if 

Mycroft wanted to tell him that it **WAS** working, however, not in a solution Sherlock hoped for. " Do you trust John?" He decided to avoid this topic and answered him with a question.   
How typical of him... 

" Wi-with my life... " The showered detective replied without any hesitation. John was his conductor of light, his best friend, the love of his life... 

The ginger could see very well what was going on in his brother's head, he didn't need to use his deductions to know. He gave him a very rare, small smile. " Then it WILL work, don't worry..."

Sherlock nodded and remained silent for a while, thoughts racing in his head like mad.   
He was so lucky to have a brother like that, he could have left him in the lurch. Mycroft Holmes was a very busy man and certainly, he had much more important things to do instead of fixing his brother's scrapes.  
" Thank you, Mycroft... I appreciate your help so much, I owe you thousands of favours..." He finally spoke and he really meant it, he knew that it wasn't easy to put up with him, but still, Mycroft managed to stand him even despite his flaws. 

" No need, brother dear. It's a sure thing..."

* * *

John was like a cat on a hot tin roof, he couldn't stop thinking about his friend, who was taking a freezing shower.   
He hoped it would work, but not because he would mind the way Sherlock looked like, he just wanted Sherlock to be comfortable in his own body and he knew that he could never be satisfied with himself like this. 

He would never leave the flat when looking as if he had just swallowed a beach ball, which would mean that he would never take a single case again (that was a horrible thing to imagine, he had a feeling that their wall wouldn't survive Sherlock's annoyance and boredom). 

The door of the bathroom opened and closed and soon Mycroft joined the ex-soldier in the living room.   
His suit was a bit damp, he has obviously been helping his brother with taking a shower. John felt a sting of guilt when he thought about Harry, he was a rubbish brother, he should be there for her, even though they didn't get on much well! 

The good army doctor snapped back to reality and looked at the older man with worries in his oceanic blue eyes.   
" Well? Did it work?" 

Mycroft rubbed the back of his neck, wondering how to tell John without speaking badly about Sherlock. " If you mean if he has stopped growing, then yes..." He said carefully, avoiding the answer in the way only Mycroft Holmes can. 

John's face paled, he wasn't stupid - he could hear the unspoken meaning behind Mycroft's words. " But?" 

The British Government sighed in defeat and ran his hand through his dwindling dark ginger hair. " His stomach didn't shrink. It looks like -"

What it looks like John didn't get an opportunity to know, instead of that they heard a loud shattering noise echoing through the whole flat, followed by an almost inhuman shriek. 

" **SHERLOCK**!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! 
> 
> Another chapter is here, what do you think? It took me much more time than the first chapter, it was quite difficult to write this, especially Mycroft. 
> 
> I love the complexity of his character - he may seem like an Ice Man, but inside he really cares about his little brother, and he's not ashamed to admit it. I think he knows that it's a weakness which can be easily used against him, that's why both of them try to distance themselves away from feelings (just my opinion;P)   
> Anyway, I hope you like it (if you don't, don't be shy and tell me, I'm ready to take criticism). I also hope that there's not far too much mistakes, because English isn't my native language, so if you find some grammar errors, please let me know :) 
> 
> Have a nice day and stay healthy in these days!   
> Yours,   
> Ash_Lock243 (PaulineHolmes02) 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, guys! 
> 
> Maybe some of you have read this all the way down and I'm really happy (and surprised) that you did.  
> To be honest, I don't even know why I wrote this, but I just love writing helpless and insecure Sherlock and caring John!  
> I hope you're not disgusted by me and my story, it was just a crazy idea which occurred to me yesterday.  
> Please tell me your opinions, I'm soooo curious to read what you think! 
> 
> Yours,  
> Ash_Lock_243 (PaulineHolmes02)


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